Fix me when i'm broken
by rosiepops
Summary: MelloxMatt. Disclaimer, do not own don't sue. Written by my friend about how Matt is always looked after Mello.


I opened the door to the find the last person I expected to be standing there. It'd been years since I last saw him, the night he left wammy's, and me. And now here he was, standing in the door way to my apartment. I could see the reason he'd come, couldn't miss it. He had soot and rubble and god only know what else covering him, and he had a huge patch of burnt skin across the left half of his face and down his left shoulder and back. He's looks so broken, so he's come to me, like it always used to be. Like fuck all has changed and he didn't just forget about me for years.

"Mihael" I gasp out, not even realising that I'd used his real name instead of the aliases we're bound to. I couldn't help it, the sight of him like that overwhelmed me at first.

"Mihael" he repeats it as if it's the first time he's heard it, separating it into different parts and sounding it out. "It's been a long time since anyone's called me that." He glances up to meet my eyes for a second before returning his gaze to the floor.

I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the door frame, composing myself before replying, "It's been a long time since I've seen you, but I see that's happened too."

He makes a sort of half-choked noise, which may have been a laugh or just a cough, and then he's silent for quite a while. I'm about to go back inside, because I really don't want to get dragged into any of his shit again, It was bad enough when we were at wammy's, I can only imagine how bad it is now. But he grabs my arm and looks at me with a desperation in his eyes that I've never seen in him before.

"Fix me" he says, and he sounds so different than he used to. It doesn't sound arrogant, or mocking, or any of the normal shit Mello usually spouts. It's just pure and desperate and I can't help but feel a tiny bit sorry for him. "Fix me" he insists.

"How Mello?" I ask. I used to patch up the cuts and scrapes we used to get back at wammy's, Mello was too proud to go to anyone else for help. But I had no medical experience, and Mello knew that. "You need to get to a hospital; I have no clue what to do about that." I say as I gesture to him.

"Please Matt" he responds with a tug on my arm. "I don't care if you can't do it properly, or if it hurts like hell … mostly because it already does" he adds to himself "… just don't take me to a hospital. Look after me. Fix me."

I pull my arm from his grasp and stand just looking down at him disbelievingly. I know it hurts him to ask anyone for help, but I just can't bring myself to care at the moment. I hate him for leaving me, and he needs to know cuz I seriously doubt he does.

"Why should I?" I ask him, but don't let him continue, not like he'd have anything to say. "You leave me for years, and you only come back when you don't have anyone else to turn to. If I fix you up best I can, you'll stay until you're well enough leave again. And just come back when you need fixing again. You can fuck off Mello. I'm not getting dragged into your shit, I can't do it."

I finish my tirade and begin to walk back into my apartment. I know that if I stay and listen to him that I won't be able to say no, and I just want to make him leave my life right now.

"Matt" he shouts at my back using that same desperate tone. I don't turn around, I can't. I need to get away before he drags me into his life.

"Mail" he shouts at me, and that makes me stop. He hates using my real name. He used to use it back at wammy's, but only when he really needed to make me listen, or when he was really angry. Usually it was both at the same time. It makes me think back to those times, carefree, cared for, loved. Times when it was just us, and we didn't need or want anyone else, and it makes me turn around and look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Use your fucking brain for a minute. Think, I'm here on your fucking door step all beat up, dying. I will die if I don't get help, but I'm too fucking stubborn, you know that. You know me. It took so much for me to come here, to face you after all these years. Do you know why? Because I didn't forget about you, because I thought about you all the fucking time, because I wanted to see you so badly, but knew you hated me. But look passed that for a second and see me."

I do as he asks, look passed that fact that I hate him for how badly he's treated me and I see him. See my best friend who needs my help desperately. But that's only for a second and then the hate pushes its way back in front, and I see a bundle of fucked up trouble just waiting to turn me into one too.

"Give me one good reason why I should help you" I say, because now I do want to help him, but I need to know that he won't just fuck off once he's better, and that he means what he says about thinking about me.

He looks up at me, straight into my eyes and I see so many emotions there that it almost scares me. Then he answers me, "Because I love you Mail Jeevas …" and I flinch at the use of my full real name, because anyone could be listening, but he just continues. "… I've missed you every day since I left you and I promise I won't leave when I'm better. Well I might, but only if it's with you." That makes me chuckle because I'm sure it used to be the other way around. I used to follow him blindly, no questions asked, because I trusted him. Now he trusts me, with his whole life.

"I don't care if you don't love me back; I just want to be with you. I want to be able to come home to you, no matter where that is." He made a gesture with his arms and flinched at the pain it caused. "I want you to take care of me. Fix me when I'm broken, like now." He takes my hand in his. "Do you believe me?"

I nod, because I do believe him. I could see it in his eyes the whole time, he meant every single word of it and I realised that I loved him too, only I confused it with hate for so long. I take his other hand in mine and pull him close to me and whisper in his ear "I'll fix you. I love you too."

I pull back and press my lips to his then pull him into my, or rather our, apartment and shut the door. He kept his word and never did leave unless I did, and I always fixed him when he came home to me broken.


End file.
